


Rock, paper, scissors

by Mary_the_gardener



Category: Ski Jumping RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Roommates, first person POV, team japan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_the_gardener/pseuds/Mary_the_gardener
Summary: The moment we open the door, I can't believe my eyes: so that's what a three people room meant. Panic starts taking control as my eyes move between the two beds: one is barely a double size and the other... it should be a single, but it's clearly intended for a child to sleep into it, the mattress neither long nor large enough to fit either of us....
Relationships: Ryoyu Kobayashi/Naoki Nakamura
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Rock, paper, scissors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilia_kaisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilia_kaisa/gifts).



> Hiiii!  
> The temptation was too strong and I just had to write this, it's just a lil thing but I hope you enjoy it!  
> Naoki's instagram story is the culprit of this all.

The moment we open the door, I can't believe my eyes: so that's what a three people room meant. Panic starts taking control as my eyes move between the two beds: one is barely a double size and the other... it should be a single, but it's clearly intended for a child to sleep into it, the mattress neither long nor large enough to fit either of us. Still, someone will have to sleep there, because I am absolutely not ready to share the other bed with Ryoyu: it's too small, and I can already imagine myself staring at the ceiling all night, the heat coming from him keeping me awake, my heart beating wildly, the temptation to move my hand an inch to the left and touch him too strong. And what if he moves? If he touches? Or worst even, what could happen in the morning when—

– So, how do we settles this? – His voice breaks my spiralling thoughts and I turn around to look at him, leaning on the handle of his silver suitcase and looking cool as ever; he's clearly expecting me so say something, suggest a solution. I have to think. Quick, quick, something.  
  
– Rock paper scissor?! – I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind, without articulating in anyway or giving him the chance to discuss this. I _can't_ discuss this. It just can not happen.  
  
He looks kind of startled by my suggestion, his composed features momentarily breaking; but it's just a flash, I can barely register it, before he goes back to looking as unfazed as usual. He nods at me and starts shrugging his coat off – Ok, let's do this. – he says, his fist ready.  
  
– Ok, here we go.  
  
Rock  
  
Paper  
  
Scissors  
  
Paper beats rock and I win. He mimics putting his hands in his hair in desperation, complaining that he'll never fit in that minuscule thing and I laugh out loud. Inside though, I'm shivering: that was a close call, I think while moving my luggage to what is now officially my part of the room.  
  


  
Later in the day we go out all together: we have a couple of free days before the competition and are living a bit of the tourist life, walking around in the streets and visiting a couple of churches. I try to be my usual self and joke with them, but somehow today I have the need to be on my own for a while. I stroll down the aisle, my camera pointed up and clicking at pillars and icons as an excuse to wander on my own while I try to make order in my thoughts.  
  
There's a little voice in me, it keeps nagging, talking me into feeling guilty for what I did, but I shut it down with decision: I did nothing wrong, luck decided that I was to have the better bed, not me. It was a fair game and we both had the same chances.  
I repeat to that little voice that sharing the bed isn't an option. Sharing a room with him for the whole season has already been hard enough: maintaining my composure when I get to see him walking around only in his boxers probably takes up half of my energies, and I'm constantly terrified that he will figure it out, that one too many stares will betray me. So, sharing a bed is totally out of the question, I'm basically sure it would be the one time he figures it out. And I just can't let it happen.

  
  
  
If the me of this afternoon thought he had shut down that voice for good, he was wrong. And very much so. In fact, it's resonating in my head clear and loud, doing a good job in keeping me awake along with the rustling sounds coming from the other side of the room. It's Ryoyu: I can't see him, but I can hear every time he huffs while trying to adjust himself in a different position, the bed too short for him to be comfortable. And all the while guilt is gnawing at me, it's sibilant voice whispering to me that I should offer him to share. It's very convincing, and doubt starts crawling in me: what if this goes on in the next days too? What if he can't sleep properly and this ends up affecting his jumps? If this were to happen, then, only then, guilt would really swallow me whole. I can't let it happen. He needs to do good. I need him to do good, I want to see him back in podium position. See him happy again. _His smile_. I have to do this for his smile.  
  
–Hey...

– Mmmh? Sorry, did I wake you? – He answers me in the darkness, his voice low and with a sad note into it. It tugs at my heart, pushes me to make my decision.  
  
I reach for the bedside lamp and turn on the light, then turn under my covers to look in his direction. He's laying there, blinking at the new source of light and looking confused and sleepy. The thought that I'm one of the very few people that can see him like all soft like this makes my heart-rate pick up, but I breathe, willing it to slow down, and pat the bare space on the mattress next to me:

–Come, bring your things here.– I say, praying that my voice doesn't sound too weird. I must have failed miserably though, because his eyes widens as he looks at me, hesitating. And I really don't know what to think of the expression painted on his face. What should it mean? I don't know what to make of it, so I just discard the thought and pat my hand on the bed once more – Or is your bed so comfortable you don't want to leave it?– I try to joke. Good, this sounds more like myself, I think. It also seems to convince him because he briefly shakes his head and then gets up, moving his pillow and duvet next to mine before getting under it.  
  
Somewhere in the back of my head that voice is praising me for doing the right thing, at the same time telling me I've been an idiot because of course we'd be each in our duvet, there's no way I will be able to feel his warmth, let alone touch him. But the way he looks at me makes everything fade in the background: he's laying on his side, facing me, hair messily scattered on his pillow, and I'm the only one that knows how they look like this – well, maybe along with Jun, says the voice, giving me the most beautiful smile, drowsy, soft, mine.  
  
–Thank you – He whispers, and how can he be like this. It takes my breath away, shuts every single though, and I just remain like that, completely still, looking in his eyes shining with the reflection of the lamp that I forgot to turn off. All I can do is smile back.  
  
And it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore, it's just us, smiling at each other in the depth of the night, darkness and quite reigning outside. It's like a dream. Even more so when I realize he's incing closer to me, bringing one arm out of the duvet and up toward my head. For a second I forget to breathe, just watch as he moves in my direction, waiting for that hand to caress my face.  
  
One second later though, the dream is shattered: his hand is moving past me as he props himself on his elbow to reach for the lamp and turns of the light. The moment darkness comes down on us I shut my eyes, willing myself to sink deep into the mattress forever. How could I be so stupid as to hope.  
  
But then, as he lays back down, he leaves his arm out of the duvet, his hand reaching for mine.  
  
In the darkness of the room, I can't see his face anymore, but I don't need it: somehow, I know that he's smiling again, and I squeeze back, finally ready to drift to sleep.  
  
  
  



End file.
